Utah. Winter.
What comes to mind when you see these two words together? Do you think of the greatest snow on Earth? Do you visualize images of skiing with the family? Maybe you think about the Winter Olympics.
If any of these thoughts crossed your mind, you likely are not, and probably haven’t ever been, homeless. For me, these words conjured up thoughts of fear, doubt and uncertainty — images of frosty breath as I cupped my hands, desperately trying to stay warm. Not the most festive of holiday images, but as winter looms overhead like a dark cloud for thousands of individuals preparing to face homelessness during the unforgiving winter months, some for the first time, this is the reality of their perilous situation.
I am a decorated combat veteran who served as an infantry team leader during the initial invasion of Iraq, and I have seen myself through many tough situations. The Army trained me well to be an efficient soldier, not so much, however, on how to handle civilian life once I returned home from combat. I became a soldier without a purpose, and I struggled with addiction, mental health and eventually became part of Utah’s homeless population. I had survived combat in Iraq, only to come home and fight to survive being homeless during the winter. Even after years of stability, Utah winters still scare me.
When the chills of the approaching winter cold begin to set in, my thoughts always tend to drift as I reflect on my not-so-distant past. I can recall mornings when I would count down the minutes until the TRAX service started, just so I could ride the routes and get out of the cold for a few hours. I even remember the one time I pretended to miss my bus, even though I never actually purchased a ticket, just so I could remain in the warm bus station lobby overnight.
Salt Lake City winters can be notoriously cold. Looking at this past winter, temperatures got as low as 14, and we saw 23 inches of valley snow. If you don’t believe me, I encourage you to venture out of your house on a snowy morning in a T-shirt and jeans. How does that make you feel? Think about the bitter frost on your fingertips, then the wind whipping right through your clothes. Then, as you heave a sigh of relief walking back into your warm, cozy home, I want you to think about how you would feel if you couldn’t walk back indoors.
If there is still any doubt left about the fact we are facing a crisis, one just has to take a look at the growing numbers of unsheltered, the lack of adequate housing and the minimal availability at shelters across the city. Toss in hunger, mental health challenges and substance abuse problems and you should begin to understand why Utah’s unhoused community deserves better.
I believe that, as a community, we are only as strong as our weakest link. Right now, we are not looking so strong. We can — and we must — do better.
First, we cannot wait until the first snowfall to address this issue. The planning needs to start earlier in the year so local leaders have adequate time to prepare a logistically sound winter response plan.
Leaders should also be designating more vacant buildings and empty churches — and contracting hotels — to use as temporary emergency shelters.
We should also establish more temporary heating centers that provide snacks, coffee and a place to warm up, much like the cooling stations in the summer.
I can remember times in which all I wanted was a bite to eat and a warm, safe place to take a nap. I would often go to a truck stop, pay a few dollars and spend an hour under a steamy, hot shower to find a welcome reprieve from the cold.
Our community should also consider more frequent food and clothing drives. A continuous flow of donations means the homeless aren’t waiting months to replace a tattered jacket or worn-down shoes.
By increasing interactions, we can bridge the gap between our community and the homeless and inspire others to get involved. With the support of our local leaders, and a few well-placed ideas of a community in action, our weakest link is starting to look a whole lot stronger.
(Choice Kinchen) Choice Kinchen is a 42-year-old disabled combat veteran who served as a team leader during the initial invasion of Iraq in 2003.
Choice Kinchen is a 42-year-old disabled combat veteran, awarded the Army Commendation Medal for Valor, who served as a team leader during the initial invasion of Iraq in 2003 with the 3rd Infantry Division’s Alpha Company 3rd Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment. He recently graduated from the University of Utah with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and is now pursuing a master’s degree in social work at the University of Southern California. He currently works in the Salt Lake valley at a residential substance abuse clinic.
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